


Final Dark of Night

by helena_s_renn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had Jo decided that a little thing called self-respect was overrated... Because I think she knew. And three years is a long time to carry a torch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Dark of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Angst/irony. PWP/SSS. Possible spoiler for Ep 5.10. Includes heavily implied wincest.
> 
> Beta by ChristianHowe

"Last night on earth and all that," he murmured, so close that Jo shivered at his whiskey-breath in her ear, hot through her thick hair. 

She would hate herself tomorrow, she really would. The eventual brush-off would sting worse. Deep down, Jo knew, somewhere between the thudding in her chest and the shooting tendrils of soul-carnage that danced through her groin, that it would make her stronger, hard-bitten, a better hunter, too. 

And what if, tomorrow, he did die and she never had the opportunity to see and feel this blunt and deeply-guarded swaggering, breathing contradiction of walking misogyny and barely-covered, scraped-raw nerves from caring too much again? He had no room in his life to take her on. They should have been siblings, and grown up brutal and in love like he and Sam had done, with no one and nothing else. She should have been his mother, and birthed him bloody and squalling from between her thighs. Maybe something more, his woman. It was the type of thing he’d never see till it was too late. 

It made perfect sense, this, them, one night or forever, the two becoming one as the fate of humanity balanced on the edge of his demon knife. 

Dean kissed so different than she had ever thought, in dream-induced chemical euphoria. ‘Oh come on, Jo - you've had how many wet dreams over the guy?’ It was soft – how could it not be with those cock-sucking lips? Once he got her ‘yes’, it was all sensation. Her back pressed into the door handle of the ancient fridge; Dean’s body unabashedly held her there, warm and hard, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. Jo opened her mouth and met his tongue stroke for stroke. One hand curled around the back of his neck and the other sliding lower, lower... before they freaked the others out worse, Dean shooed her up the stairs.

Bobby's house was huge, and old, with secret stairs and hidden, dusty rooms. They stumbled like blind-drunk revelers through hallways. Jo clung to him, made him half-carry her. Everywhere, devils' traps graced their manmade skies. 

In the room at the end of the el hall, they made their last stand. Boots thumped. Clothes flew everywhere, flannels and tees, heavy belts tangled in jeans hit the floor. Naked breasts bared to those lips and sharp teeth, Jo arched up and let him at her. Sylph and siren and succubus, things they'd both kill in real life, were all the things she could be for him. Shivering uncontrollably, Jo pressed her palms to Dean’s smooth chest. He had the prettiest nipples she’d ever seen on a guy, and they pulled tight under her touch. Below, his erection stood out flushed and veined, heavy sac tense. She reached and...

Dean pushed her onto the bed and lowered himself unto her, hands so restrained upon her hips and thighs. She wanted him now, wanted to be taken and made to feel those things she’d been stamping down for years. Dean dragged his hands over the satin of her skin. His head lowered to nip lightly at her neck. “No, not like that,” Jo growled at him. “Like you want it.” 

“You’ve got it wrong.” Dean’s voice rolled over her, a thick blanket of fog where she was already growing hazy from want. Lips caressed her earlobe. “If you don’t want it over in two minutes, you’ll thank me to slow down.” His body moved in increments, in waves, the ebb and flow of the tide to the moon; it made Jo crazy. She could barely get her legs around his hips fast enough, and he assented wordlessly, fucked into her in one long push that left them both gasping for air. It was as she'd sensed. He was thick and hot, leaking juices like she was, boring into her core in steady, languid thrusts. She’d have screamed if not for his hand covering her mouth.

“Sssh, everyone knows what’s going on up here; they shouldn’t have to hear it, too.” She supposed that her own mother, whose eyes had narrowed in judgment, would appreciate not hearing her daughter getting it on with a Winchester. Jo’s hands found the solid muscle of Dean’s back and shoulders, glided down his spine to cradle his ass cheeks. She cursed her feminine body, small hands and delicate fingers. 

“Wish I were more your size... wish I had a cock...” she whispered against his mouth. “I’d fuck you so good, just like you’re doing me.” Yeah, he had moves. Following his dance was a challenge. 

“Babe, I got all the cock I could want,” Dean’s lips left hers long enough to quirk up. “Night’s not over.” 

“You mean, when you’re done with me,” Jo tightened, every part of her, and Dean’s smile widened. He was drunk on this endorphin rush, too, and her clasp made him speed up, finally. Between them, they were more than slick. 

“We ain’t done yet.” Downstroke. “I’ll give it to you like you want.” Back stroke. “And then I’ll love you like you really want.” Shove! “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret. Now turn over.” 

Up on her haunches with Dean stabbing up into her from behind, arms wrapped tight around her, Jo hit it and hit it and gave in to the undertow, her long fair hair wrapped in a hank around his fist, begging, “More... please, Dean...!” and he gave her that, till she was too sated to walk. Eight times, nine? Jo didn’t know her own name any more. 

When he came, the moon turned full and red, and new constellations were born. Every single splash his body offered was echoed in shudders and subsonics. Surcease bore them down, limbs entwined. For a time, they lay together in a tangle of sweaty sheets spent fluids, trading lazy kisses. 

The flames they’d quenched lay as embers. Jo worked up her nerve. “'Like I really wanted?'” she whispered finally. “What did you mean?” 

Dean paused, didn’t look her in the eyes. She could see the sudden tenseness around his sockets. “You sure?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be sure or not sure about.” That was nothing but subterfuge. In the last minute, she’d sensed a presence lurking just outside the unlocked door. Even her half-honed skills were good enough for that. 

Jo went silent. The house did; the night itself. 

She sighed. 

Then she said, “Come in, Sam.” 

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: Hours til Dawn


End file.
